


Ring The Alarm

by venomedveins



Series: Agron/Duro/Nasir [2]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Violence, break in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7347907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomedveins/pseuds/venomedveins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone breaks into Agron, Duro, and Nasir's house. They didn't expect the Marines to be home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ring The Alarm

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea what this is. I thought it was going to be like full of plot but it isn't. Also, I think I'm in love with this verse and may be dropping little one shots in here every so often.

It is late, the sound of cicadas echoing outside, their call insistent and high. In the California King, Nasir nuzzles blearily against his pillow, unsure yet why he is even awake. The night had gone uneventfully, calm and happy. No fighting. No unexpected phone calls. Dinner was had early, chicken masala and light conversation about redecorating the front hall. The dogs were fed and put out back for the night. Then, Agron and Duro had dragged Nasir into the living room, all of the piling on the couch to watch some lame action movie Duro picked out - it was his turn. Nasir had dozed off with Agron's clever fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp. He had barely blinked his eyes open when Agron had carried him up to their bedroom, Duro helping to strip him and tuck him in.

Slowly rolling over, Nasir can see the backyard light illuminating in long strips of golden yellow through the blinds. It lines Agron, body standing straight and tense by the side of the bed, looming as one long shadow. He hasn't bothered to grab any clothes, muscles flexing down his chest, his waist, his thighs, frozen with his eyes trained to the doorway.

"Agron?" Sitting up, Nasir rubs a hand into his hair. "What's wrong babe?"

"Shhh."

Silently, Agron doesn't move, just expels the air through his half parted lips. After the brothers got back from deployment, there were a few long nights like this - Agron or Duro wrapped in a nightmare, raising from the bed, recounting some horror. Duro had been the violent one, hitting walls and furniture, only soothed when Agron was forced to manhandle him down, wake him with rough hands and reassuring words.

Agron's nightmares were different. Instead of thrashing and screaming, he turns silent, stealthy, hunting in the darkness of his minds. The first time Nasir had found him, Agron had been standing in the corner of their living room, blending in with the shadows, one hand empty but curled as if he was holding a knife. Nasir's shout of surprise had woken him instantly, but Nasir will never be able to forget the look on Agron's face, the cold calculation of murder.

Their episodes of sleep walking and screaming have died down in the past months, calmed by the realization that they are home and safe, but that doesn't mean they have disappeared completely.

This is different though, Agron's eyes are wide open, a muscle on his lower back twitching as he stands unmoving. It's the way he's not doing anything, chest barely rising as he breathes, that alerts Nasir to the fact he's awake. Then, from deep within the downstairs, a ghost of a sound travels along the hall - whispers and the sound of someone opening a drawer.

"Fuck." Nasir says the word, inching along the bed as silently as he can to stand beside his boyfriend. "Is that-?"

"Someone's in the house." Agron doesn't turn his face away from the door. "I heard them break the glass on the side door."

"What do we do?" The hairs on the back of Nasir's neck stand up, any sleepiness gone under the realization that there are unknown people downstairs.

Agron puts a firm hand on Nasir's shoulder, pushing him back onto the sheets when he tries to get up. "Stay here with Duro. I'll be right back"

"Agron!" Nasir's smaller hand wraps around Agron's wrist, tugging insistently. "No. Just go shut the door and I'll call 911."

"It's okay. I'll be right back." Agron shakes Nasir off gently, pecking the top of his head before turning back towards the door. "Stay here."

"You can't go down there! Agron! You're not even dressed."

Attempting to rise again gets the same result, Agron firmly pressing Nasir back against the bed with a grim look before walking towards the door.

Agron has always been a pretty loud person. He's big and boisterous in his speech, laugh deep and rich, and growling anger. Yet, he stalks across the floor as if he is part of the shadows themselves, body curled and feet silent. It's tactical training, and Nasir knows it, can see where the line shifts from his Agron into Marine Agron.

"Duro, wake up."

Rolling back over, Nasir lays a hand over Duro's mouth and another on his shoulder shaking him roughly. It only takes a moment for the other man to bolt awake, eyes wild and hand reaching for a knife that is not under his pillow. He relaxes when he sees his boyfriend, slumping back against the bed.

"What's wrong? Where's Agron?" Duro pulls away from Nasir, head whipping around as if his brother will somehow magically appear. "If this is some kinky surprise sex thing-"

"Someone's in the house." Nasir whispers, face looming above the other man's. "Agron is going downstairs."

"Shit."

Both of them bolt from the bed, Duro having the foresight to grab his boxers off a nearby chair, Nasir tugging on Agron's forgotten shirt. They both inch towards the bedroom door, pressing their backs against the wall as Nasir's leads them out, tiptoeing into the upstairs hallway.

Agron is standing on the first landing, the only thing giving him away is the nightlight illuminating the shine of his dog tags in the center of his chest. The movement from downstairs is louder now, voices raising from light whispers into quiet conversation. They must think that whomever is upstairs is a heavy sleeper.

_"I found the safe but no combo."_

_"We'll grab the thing on the way out. I'm finding nothing over here. Any luck in the living room?"_

_"Xbox. Play Station. Some pretty high tech speakers. Like six bottles of fucking KY."_

_"And the side room?"_

_"Just art shit. Like paint and stuff. I'll admit, whoever it is has talent, but I don't think it's gonna fetch what a Picasso would."_

_"You fuck. You don't even know what you're talking about. Are we going to head upstairs?"_

_"Yeah. That buddy of mine said it's just the one guy. The other two are army or something. Should be easy."_

_"Let's try not to wake him. I really fucking hate it when we have to tie people up."_

The robbers move into the downstairs hallway, creeping carefully with duffle bags in each of their hands. Through the front door's window pane, a shard of light illuminates them long enough to see that there are four of them, dressed in black with ski masks rolled up on their foreheads. They move like they know the layout of the house, edging around a side table and being careful to miss the creak in the bottom step. Whomever their source is, they’ve been in the house before.

Along the hallway, Nasir creeps forward, hand pressed flat against the wall. He can't see the men just yet, can only see Agron's outline in the dark, Duro's warm breath on his back. The anticipation grows as the light along the wall changes, bodies passing past the nightlights and candle warmers. Nasir knows what Agron's going to do before he does it, body already curling for a fight, and there is nothing stopping him.

The first man only gets three steps up the stairs before Agron acts, stepping down to meet him. The distance up the stairs gives him added height, looming fierce and deadly with his hands curled into fists. He doesn't even let the first burglar speak, pulling his hand back, body tight and controlled, as he lands the first jab to the man's cheek.

It's a domino effect, the man back peddling into his friends, all of them crashing back against the wall. Agron doesn’t bother to see if they’re going to run, shoving into the midst of them, fists connecting with flesh and growling. It’s too dark in the downstairs entry way, blinds and curtains having been drawn to keep out the obnoxious street lights.

“What the fuck man?” Someone is shouting, trying to scramble away and crashing into One of the men gets a good arm around Agron’s shoulders, attempts to pull him back, but it’s useless when Agron lets himself be dragged back, only to slam the man against the wall instead. Blood splatters along the metallic paisley wallpaper.

“Fuck. He’s going to kill them.” Nasir hisses, shoving around Duro’s protective arm and heading towards the stairs. He only gets halfway down before Agron shoves a hand into someone’s chest, tossing him up to crumple at Nasir’s feet.

“Agron!” Stepping over the whimpering man, Nasir darts around another to grab onto Agron’s forearm, planting his feet and tugging.

In any other circumstance, Agron would have frozen, turned to see what Nasir needed, would have dropped his guard. Nasir has had that effect on Agron for ages, all it takes it is a hand wrapped around Agron’s arm, voice breaking when he says his name, and Agron would turn away from any fight for his boyfriend. This situation has gotten too far though, and when Agron tugs his arm, he drags Nasir with him, slamming him into his side. Thankfully, it has a stopping effect as both men stagger, Agron’s shoulder clipping the doorframe as he tries to stop from toppling over.

In the time it takes for Duro to find the light switch and Agron to stop moving, the four men dart down the long hallway and out the side door. Axl and Hetfield must see them on their retreat, deep barks that seem to nearly shake the glass, large paws scratching at the backdoor in distress. They’ll be long gone before any of the men inside can pursue them, left to escape as the trio stares at each other.

“What the fuck was that?” Duro asks, collapsing down to sit on the steps.

“Someone needs to go calm down the dogs,” Agron croaks. He’s leaning heavily on the wall, blood splattered on his chest, knuckles oozing from where the skin has split. He also has a nasty bruise forming where the door jam cracked over his shoulder, the crimson making a slow path down his bicep.

“I’ll go.”

Nasir extracts himself from under Agron’s good arm, padding barefoot toward the backdoor. He says something sharp and clear in German, snapping his fingers. Instantly, Hetfield and Axl quiet, their large heads cocked to the side. Nasir won’t leave them like that though, carefully picking his way across the stone patio to pet both of the dogs. Standing, their heads brush Nasir’s nose. It’s a well-known fact that Agron somehow got them smuggled into the country. Tibetan mountain dogs are not a common breed in the US. He trained them military style to only listen to commands in German, completely loyal and guard dogs to Nasir when the brothers are away.

When he comes back in, Agron has on a pair of sweatpants and Duro is making a sandwich, having swept up the glass from the side door. Nasir doesn’t even need to say anything, pointing to one of the kitchen chairs as he heads down the hall for the first aid kit.

“Baby, I’m alright. I’ve had worse.” Agron tries to soothe, a flicker of a grimace across his face when Nasir applied a piece of gauze with alcohol over the cut on his shoulder. “Really.”

“Shut up.” Nasir hisses it without heat, moving to stand between Agron’s legs to get better access to his wounds.

Agron does as he’s told, turning his attention to studying Nasir instead. There is a small furrow between his eyebrows, mouth downturned in a pouting frown. The shirt he’s pulled on is long on him, hanging mid-thigh and thin. It’s chilly in the kitchen, the outline of Nasir’s nipples small and hard against the front. There are goosebumps on his thighs, Agron’s hands smoothing over them as he eases his grip up the back, sliding his palms over Nasir’s ass.

“You should have let me call the cops. You can’t just go around beating people up.” Nasir mutters, smoothing a band-aid over Agron’s shoulder. “It’s dangerous.”

“Nasir, I didn’t just go beating someone up. Those guys broke into our house. They were coming upstairs for you.” Agron’s grip turns firmer on his ass, drawing Nasir into his lap instead. He willingly complies, wrapping his legs around Agron’s waist, still frowning. “We’ve been over this. I’m a highly trained general in the Marines. I can kill someone with just hand to hand combat. I think can handle some low grade burglars.”

“I don’t want you to be hurt or in danger, no matter how big or bad the enemy is.” Nasir wraps his arms around Agron’s neck, accepting a slow kiss from the larger man. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“I’m home now. You can baby me and bandage me up all you want.” Agron soothes, mouth pressing insistent and hot against Nasir’s. He only has just slipped his tongue into Nasir’s mouth though when the smaller man pulls back, brow furrowing.

“But what if it wasn’t okay? What if they had guns? We should have called the cops, let them handle it.”

“I’m fine. You’re fine. Duro is-“ Agron trails off, turning to look over at his brother, wrinkling his nose in confusion. “Duro what the fuck are you doing?”

Sitting on the counter, Duro is dipping a piece of bread into their jar of peanut butter, swirling it around in a large circle before popping it into his mouth. He then takes the squeezable jelly, holding it up and feeding himself a sizeable amount before chewing. He doesn’t even make it halfway through the sandwich before he answers, voice thick. He shrugs one shoulder, motioning towards the drawer.

“They stole the silverware.”


End file.
